5 Times They Shoved McCoy Into a Closet
by Danzinora Switch
Summary: ...and one time he came out- BROKE out, Jim, BROKE out, good Lord, get your head out of the gutter. Rated T because Jim has a lousy sense of humor.
**A/N: Because why not? I have not abandoned Strike Force Alpha, I'm just trying to figure out _how_ to get to where I want to go next. In the meantime, these little snippets popped into my head. There is  NO actual slash, although Jim Kirk's brand of humor leans a little lewd. Very, _very_ light adult themes, basically.**

 **Alright, folks. Read, enjoy, and review! Thank you!**

* * *

 **1.**

Kirk paced back and forth in his cabin. McCoy leaned against the small table, watching him.

"You're not normally one to freak out over things like this."

"I'm not freaking out!" Kirk snapped back. He froze and dragged a hand across his face. "I just don't prefer to gather information this way."

McCoy raised an eyebrow, but carefully suppressed his desire to drag out 'really?' in the most Southern way possible. "It might be our one shot at figuring out what happened to the other colonists," he settled, keeping the situation in perspective. Wouldn't Spock be proud.

"I know," Kirk nodded, then resumed pacing.

"And there are worse ways to obtain information- ways that don't involve an ambassador's daughter with a crush on you-"

"Bones, I asked you here for advice, not a commentary!" Kirk's rebuttal was suddenly cut off by the door's buzzer. Both men looked at each other.

"I thought you said she wouldn't be here till-" McCoy was stopped when Kirk suddenly rushed him and shoved him into the closet, locking it. He heard a muffled squawk and shushed the door.

"Quiet, alright?! Just stay there!" The buzzer chimed again and he quickly straightened his tunic before answering it.

"Jim, darling, I was beginning to think you weren't in," Alcia cooed, flowing into his arms.

Kirk put on a strained smile. "Just making sure everything was ready."

They fell into the normal routine of such matters, and after nearly an hour Alcia left satisfied and Kirk had the information he needed. He nearly rushed out of the room to go tell Spock before remembering the other guest in his quarters.

Sheepishly, he unlocked the closet and looked down to where McCoy was sitting cross-legged on the floor, unrepentantly grumpy.

"Don't ever put me through that again."

"Desperate times called for desperate measures- I didn't know she would get here early," he apologized.

McCoy huffed and tightened his crossed arms. "I need to see if M'Benga can bleach my mind."

"It wasn't that bad-"

" _You_ weren't stuck in a closet the whole time!"

"I can always close this door."

McCoy stood up and glared at him. "You'll do no such thing."

* * *

 **2.**

Being stuck in a closet was never fun, but it was always worse when you were stuck in one _with someone else_.

 _Particularly a Vulcan._

 _Particularly a Vulcan named SPOCK!_

What was it with people always showing up early? He and Spock weren't done investigating the chief's room for clues to his Orion affiliates, and now they had been forced into his tiny closet to avoid detection.

He should probably thank Spock's ears for hearing the key turn in the lock, but he was still grumbling about how the Vulcan basically ran him backwards into the space. No warning or apology at all- just a green-blooded science officer barreling into him and both of them ending up chest to chest in the darn closet.

It's uncomfortable in a thousand ways.

He wanted to shift his position, but the last time he had tried that he'd nudged a boot which led Spock to just _hold him still_ like he was a _damn child_. It only made McCoy want to squirm even more.

At last the chief finally left. McCoy breathed a sigh of relief and tried to move. Spock continued to block him. "Not yet, Doctor."

"Why the hell not?" he demanded. He started tugging at Spock's wrists to get him to move his arms and let him go.

"In case he has forgotten something and comes back for it. The normal interval for most of these occurrences is usually about ten minutes."

"Spock, I am not spending _ten more minutes_ in this closet with you!" In his agitation he banged his head against the wall and winced. "Move, Spock!"

"Doctor, it may not yet be clear."

"I don't care. I've hanging clothes in my face and I'm trapped with a Vulcan. I want out."

"We must use caution, Doctor, as we cannot afford to get caught-"

"Oh, please, like that's any reason to-"

The door to the room opened and both immediately fell silent. McCoy stopped squirming. He tried to see who it was through the crack in the door. Since Spock was facing him he wouldn't be able to tell. He could feel his heart thudding in his throat.

Their door opened and Spock whirled around.

Jim grinned at them.

"Captain," Spock stated with obvious relief. He strode out into the room, and McCoy rolled his eyes before pushing himself off the wall to follow. Damn it, he probably had all kinds of dust, mothballs and fibers in his hair, clinging to him with static electricity- and Spock had to walk out all immaculate without a _hair_ out of place.

"Well gentlemen," Kirk said calmly. "It isn't every day I see two of my officers come out of the closet together."

"JIM!" McCoy exclaimed, the horror evident on his face (multiplied by how disheveled he knew he looked). Thankfully, Spock did not seem to understand the reference- if he had he might've hypoed himself into oblivion just to avoid the following embarrassment.

Kirk just grinned wider and wiggled his eyebrows at McCoy.

"Captain, it is not every day that two officers are forced to retreat into a closet in the first place. One might mark this as the beginning unusual scenario, because where one goes in, they must eventually come out-"

Maybe he should just hypo himself after all.

* * *

 **3.**

All he wanted was _one_ good night of sleep.

But it was apparently too much to ask of the universe, because now Spock has shown up in quarters and is ordering him into his closet.

 _At phaser point._

Somehow not even 'are you out of your Vulcan mind' could cover it.

"Doctor, there is no time to explain, now please step _into_ the closet and _remain silent_."

He had a couple options. He could refuse, which meant challenging a (possibly insane) Vulcan with a phaser, or he could comply.

So basically, he didn't have options.

Startled, sleep-deprived, and grouchy, he was now in his own closet as Spock tucked the pillows under the blankets like a person and maneuvered by the door. A moment later it opened and one of the delegates they were escorting rushed in. He had something sharp in his hand- and then Spock stunned him and he promptly tumbled to the ground. The comm whistled and Kirk's voice carried over it. " _You get him, Spock?_ "

"Affirmative, Captain, have you apprehended the operative targeting Dr. M'Benga?"

 _"Yeah, got him in just in time- let's get this pair to the brig, Spock, and settle the details in the morning."_

"Acknowledged, Spock out." Spock returned his attention to the fallen delegate, and McCoy finally shook out of his shock to exit the enclosed space.

"What was all that about? Operatives? Them? Is M'Benga alright? Why us? Why didn't you tell me anything?"

"Doctor," Spock interrupted. "The captain and I only learned of the plot approximately 26.3 minutes ago; there was hardly enough time to inform you before measures needed to be taken. It is fortunate that for once you chose prompt cooperation instead of relying on your usual array of stubbornness and defiance."

McCoy straightened indignantly. "Just get him out of here, Spock, so I can get back to sleep!"

* * *

 **4.**

The red lighting of the compound was really messing with his vision, but he just focused on Jim's back as they pelted through the halls. The harsh military sound of the alert did nothing to quell his nerves, but at least they were out of the cell and hadn't run into any guards yet.

They passed a diverging hallway and glimpsed some soldiers running towards them.

Damn it, he'd jinxed them.

He picked up the pace and nearly slammed into Kirk as they rounded a corner and the captain stopped. Jim had yanked open a door and quickly shoved Bones in.

McCoy, naturally, could not proceed with any kind of grace, and his legs got tangled with Kirk's as he was pulling the door shut and they collapsed in a heap in some kind of radiator/janitor closet.

He grunted, because landing on an unforgiving floor was one thing, but also having _Jim Kirk_ land on top of you was something else.

Kirk shifted and tried to prop himself up on his elbows. He looked down and blinked as McCoy tried to disentangle his limbs.

"Bones, do you realize this red light makes your eyes look purple?"

McCoy froze and stared at him. "That's it. I'm cutting you off your soap operas."

Kirk frowned and opened his mouth to reply but both stilled as they heard the soldiers running by outside the closet door. The troop must have joined others because the tromp of boots and bark of orders stretched on longer than it should have.

Kirk lowered himself back down and whispered into McCoy's ear. "If anyone opens the door, you know what we'll have to pretend to do to make people look away and close it."

McCoy's eyes widened. "What- _Jim,_ I am _not_ doing that, even for pretend!"

"Quiet, Bones," he hissed.

"Besides, our uniforms would- mphkht!" Kirk kept his hand planted over McCoy's mouth and glared at him.

" _Shh!_ "

At last the sounds of the soldiers faded. McCoy tore Jim's hand off his mouth. "You can't tell me to shut up when you were the one who started talking!"

"I was whispering!" he retorted.

McCoy rolled his eyes and pushed Jim off of him. He got to his feet and pressed his ear against the door, to make sure no one else was walking by. "I think it's clear, Jim."

"Bones, come here."

Frowning, he turned and walked to where Jim was bent over something by a toolbox. He whirled and held up a small, square mirror.

"See, Bones? You really do have violet eyes in this light!"

"Good Lord, Jim, I will suture your mouth shut."

* * *

 **5.**

It was probably the conversation that jinxed them.

Quite literally, they were _talking about being locked in closets._

As Jim was occupied doing who-knows-what, McCoy found himself in Spock's quarters as the two debated various ethical dilemmas (tamed by slightly sedated tea) before the conversation meandered to away missions and closets.

"I kid you not, Spock, he actually said that. _Violet eyes_. We're running around getting chased by foot soldiers and the only thing the man can think of is 'hey! My eyes turned purple!'"

Spock steepled his fingers and nodded, contemplating. "Certain forms of lighting do have that effect on blue eyes, particularly red lighting, as it invokes the color scale to blend the chromatics into violet. The stronger the blue, the more likely they are to appear violet, as well. There was a well-known actress of your 20th century, I believe, whom had such vibrant blue eyes that they were often mistaken as purple."

"Elizabeth Taylor," McCoy nodded. "Classic."

"Indeed. The captain, being in close proximity to you, noticed this and was likely startled for a moment, thus saying what was foremost on his mind."

"Hmmph," McCoy crossed his arms. "Well, it _was_ better than the time when he locked me in his closet for an hour while he 'entertained' Alcia of Uratha."

"An hour?" Spock repeated.

The Vulcan had hardly gotten the words out before the door slid open and Jim Kirk himself ran in, breathless and panicked.

"Hide me!" he blurted, screeching to a halt before them.

"Why?" McCoy rebutted instantly. He leaned back, enjoying the rare moment of watching Jim squirm.

"Sulu and Chekov bet me 50 credits to hang Scotty's still from the top of the engine room."

They continued to stare at him.

"So I did."

"And now, Scotty's after you," McCoy finished sagely. "Good job, Jim."

"You gotta hide me!" he turned to Spock.

"Oh no!" McCoy held up a finger. "You're not roping us into this. I don't want to face the wrath of the sober Scotsman."

"Captain, it is the sign of a great leader to stand and face his adversary," Spock hedged in. McCoy shot him an appraising look.

"And to know which battles to fight," Kirk retorted. "That's it: I am ordering you gentlemen to help me."

Spock and McCoy looked at each other. "Can he do that?" McCoy asked.

"Yes, now-" he broke off and his face paled. Off in the distance, the sound of Scottish cursing was rapidly growing louder.

Kirk moved, and McCoy stood, protesting as he rushed at him and Spock. "No! No more closets! Mphk!"

The door slid shut right as Scotty burst into Spock's quarters. He roved the room briefly, then, deeming it was empty, exited with a new burst of curse words.

In the closet, the trio was pressed tightly against each other and some hanging robes.

"Damn it, Jim," McCoy grumbled. "Enough with this, I want out."

"No, Bones, he might come back!"

"He _will_ come back and he _will_ find you and you _will_ deal with whatever Scotty dispenses you!" he exclaimed.

"Gentlemen," Spock broke in gently. "Could we please exit my closet?"

"Not until Scotty calms down!" Kirk declared.

McCoy made an exasperated noise. "Jim. I am not spending my evening trapped in here with the two of you!" He squirmed between them, trying to find the door handle.

In desperation, Kirk tried to pin his arms.

"JIM! Let go!"

"Bones, stop twitching!"

"Captain, please let go of my arm."

"Jim, if you won't let me out, then I'll scream at the top of my lungs."

"Scotty won't hear you."

"Oh, he eventually will, and until then y'all will have to put up with my falsetto."

"Doctor, please, Vulcan hearing is far more sensitive to-"

" _Bones_ , don't you dare-"

"Oh yeah?"

"Damn!"

"Mphkk-pht!"

"Shit!"

"Captain?"

"Mmm-phrmk!"

"Gross! Just- keck ko, kkkkk!"

"Doctor?"

"Shmmmk, mrphkt."

"Doctor, please let go of the captain's throat."

And that was how Scotty found them- with Kirk clapping his hands over McCoy's mouth, and McCoy trying to strangle Kirk while Spock did his (awkward) best to pull both of their hands off each other.

At least it put him in a humored enough mood that he wouldn't rake his captain over the coals. Spock and Dr. McCoy could do that for him.

* * *

 **+1.**

McCoy cursed and wiggled. His boots thumped against some boxes and sent a shower of miscellaneous items over him. He swore in frustration again.

It was bad enough that he was locked and tied up in a closet.

But did it have to be his _own_ closet?

He tugged on his hands and wriggled some more. Soon as he got out of here he was going to give Jim and Spock the lickin' of their _lives_.

At last his left hand came free. Slipping the other one loose, he quickly sat up and untied his feet. He stood and pushed on the door.

Hmm. This could be a problem.

Well, enough was enough. He wasn't going to let something as flimsy as a _door_ stop him stop him from getting his revenge.

He tried ramming it with his shoulder, but that only hurt. Frowning, he rifled through the falling boxes, knowing he had _something_ in this darn closet that could help him.

Oh my. How did a laser scalpel get in there? Distantly, he recalled bringing an old version back to his room to repair, then forgetting it there for a few days, and by the time he remembered they had a new batch in. Apparently the scalpel had found its way into his closet. How fortuitous.

Pleased to see that it still worked, he quickly set about burning through the lock.

A few minutes later and he was free.

J/S

"Okay, Spock, now everything's in place," Jim declared. The rec room was _just right_ with the tables, counter of goodies, streamers and crewmen all ready for the big surprise. Kirk grinned. This was going to be the best.

"Captain, I do retain regrets about the state in which we left McCoy," Spock said. "He will not be amused."

Jim waved him off. "Just think of it like a hazing, like back at the Academy. Heck, Spock, I've been kidnapped and brought to my own birthday party before- it's normal."

"It is not," Spock dead-panned.

"Well," Kirk thought for a moment. "Then think of it this way: at least he is _guaranteed_ to stay put and not find out about it this time. We actually have a shot at surprising him this year."

"Perhaps," Spock murmured. They started walking back to Dr. McCoy's quarters to retrieve him. "Although I maintain that we did not need to go to these lengths."

"I know how you feel about this, Spock, but I wouldn't have been able to restrain him on my own. He gets incredibly squirmy, have you noticed that?"

Spock did not deign to comment.

They arrived and Kirk carefully straightened his shirt- a habit whenever he was about to face down a hostile situation. "Here we go."

They entered… and frowned.

The closet door was slightly ajar. Rushing forward, Jim let out a strangled noise at the scorched handle and lock on the door. Nearby, Spock picked up a discarded laser scalpel.

Kirk erupted. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" he cried.

"There is little the doctor cannot accomplish when he is so determined," Spock commented.

"Enough with the analysis, Spock, we have to find him- and quickly!"

M

McCoy had charged through the halls not unlike the Angel of Death- but as each room and corridor came up empty, he had begun to slow. Neither Jim, nor Spock, were in their quarters. Come to think of it, he hadn't passed anybody on his crazed search. The ship was never this empty, not on this time of day.

He tried the Bridge, but as he stormed off the turbolift his anger morphed into confusion as he saw a skeleton crew manning the base operations- all of them lieutenants. It was Alpha shift, where were Sulu, Uhura and the others?

Getting worried, he retreated down to Deck 5. He would try Sickbay, and maybe somebody could tell him what the hell was going on.

"Jim, if this is some kind of prank," he growled to himself.

He stepped out an adjacent corridor and stopped wildly in his tracks. Jim and Spock were walking towards him, and they halted too, eyes widening.

"Jim?" McCoy questioned.

Kirk grabbed Spock's elbow. "Run!"

McCoy narrowed his eyes. "Jim!" he yelled, giving chase.

J/S

They rounded corridors, rooms and all in all wildly traversed the maze of the ship. "Captain, do you have a plan?" Spock asked, running alongside him.

"Yes. Run!"

"Beyond that, Captain?"

"Just follow me, and don't let him catch you!"

Eyebrows narrowing, Spock nevertheless did as he was told and realized that they were running towards the rec room. Ah. Kirk was going to salvage the original plan.

He heard McCoy cursing and yelling loudly behind them.

And hopefully it would mollify the doctor.

"A _closet_ , Jim? _My own darn closet?!_ "

Kirk and Spock barreled into the rec room. McCoy charged through the doors, hot on their heels, then came to a screeching halt as everyone shouted "SURPRISE!"

The doctor stood there blinking, a disturbed look on his face.

"Happy Birthday, Bones!" Jim panted, trying a weak grin.

M

The party milled on as people congregated and socialized. Punch and _actual chocolate_ were spread out on a long table. There were even a few balloons that some ensigns were kicking about.

Kirk and McCoy stood before the main attraction: an actual cake. Scotty was proudly cutting into it, putting the slices on small plates.

"You like it, Bones?" Kirk asked. He was still trying to keep an eye on the doctor, whose irate mood had vanished with the celebration. He didn't trust it.

"It's good, Jim," McCoy replied. "Time off for the crew, sweets 'n' goodies- it's definitely a birthday."

Jim smiled. "So you see why we had to keep everything a secret from you."

"I do," McCoy nodded. Jim melted in relief.

Scotty handed McCoy a piece of cake and, thanking him, the doctor promptly turned and smashed it into Jim's face.

"No more closets, Jim."


End file.
